


of heroes made from quantic gods

by megamegaturtle



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: :), Adrien as every lovable Cupid, Cupid and Psyche AU, F/M, Genderfulid!Aphrodite, Greek AU, Marinette as hero Psyche, Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/pseuds/megamegaturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some places, you take the Empire State Building to enter Mount Olympus. But if you want to reach Aphrodite, Marinette learns, you take the Eiffel Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She doesn’t know when she could start to see through the mist, through the thick illusions that separated _his_ world from hers, the division of monsters and magic from humans. Maybe it’s because she has her _own_ magic, one granted through other deities not tied to ancient pantheons and forced to survive on the idea of _civilization_ , but given to her from creatures still so powerful that they have their own rules and regulations. But Marinette is not about to question the validity of which magic is far more true between Greek and Quantic Gods. Her goal today is not to unravel the mysteries of the universe, but instead gather the string that leads her to another woman’s story. 

The morning sun glows and twinkles off the steel of the Eiffel tower, creating a mirage of warmth that is not real in the winter’s cold. With little puffs of air fogging up before her with each breath, Marinette stuffs her hands in her coat pockets and her fingers skim against the fancy card stock of her invitation. She resists the urge to crumble it, damaging the beauty of the etched cursive script, but it is tempting. 

She hurries her pace as the tower comes closer into view, her boots crunching the snow beneath every step. Eyes as blue as a spring sky look up, and for a moment, she wonders how such an iconic French symbol could take her somewhere otherworldly. But the thought doesn’t linger in her mind long when she notices a reception office that foreign tourists seem to ignore.

Pausing for a moment, she opens her purse, worry painting her face as she looks at her friend. “You think I can do this, Tikki?”

Yet even in her hiding spot, the red and black speculated kwami meets her gaze, her blue eyes the opposite of her charge’s. “Don’t worry, Marinette,” she soothes. “With me, you’re just as much as a god as the rest of them.”  

A small smile quirks at her lips and her twisted heart gains courage to continue. Not all laws require gods to be immortal to still be powerful. Ladybug is proof of that. 

Entering through the glass automatic doors, she leaves the cold and enters a toasty room. At the reception desk sits a woman, red coloring her bangs, as she clicks drolly on a keyboard. 

Without lifting her eyes, the woman speaks in a monotone voice, “Aphrodite is not seeing anyone today.” 

That does not deter Marinette though as she takes off her red coat and drapes it over her arm. Fishing in her pocket, she slides the invitation on the glass to the woman whose nameplate says “ Nathalie”. 

“I think I can be an exception today, no?”

Slowly looking away from the computer screen, Nathalie’s lips part and she makes a small, soundless gasp. For the first time since she has entered the room, the secretary glances up at  Marinette with aqua eyes–too oceanic to be human–as recognition comes into play.

Yet she is only stunned for a moment, her features retreating back into a blank expression and her voice refusing to betray her surprise.

“Do you have your dharma coin?”

And for a second, Marinette panics and her hands want to dig through every pocket of her coat, every crevice of her purse for something she’s never heard of before. _It doesn’t matter_ , she thinks, _what if I needed it all along?_

Though panic is all but forgotten when Tikki flies from the inner pocket of her handbag and rests on Marinette’s shoulder. Despite that Marinette can’t see her face, she can hear the pride vibrating from the kwami’s small body. “Gods like _we_ do not need to pay your fee.”

At the word “we”, Natahlie presses her lips together so firmly that Marinette is positive that they disappear, melting into her face as if smudged clay. However, the woman nods once and presses a button on her desk. The action makes a secret door chime and reveal an elevator’s arrow pointing up. With stiff movements, she directs the two halves of Ladybug inside the compartment.

Marinette takes a moment to soak in the glossy black paneling, her reflection dim and that reminds her of a parallel figure of her shadow. While she wants to study this other part of her, the one that walks the earth beneath her feet, the door chimes and the metal doors start to close.

As they journey up towards the clouds, Natahlie’s voice breaks over the intercom, her speech cryptic as she speaks. “Other god or not,” she warns, “you are not as mighty as those on Mount Olympus.”

* * *

When she exits the elevator, she sees a world of pristine cloud pathways, glamours green grasses, and shining golden lights. 

 _This is paradise_ , she thinks. 

And Marinette is not wrong for Mount Olympus is a decadent world of immeasurable beauty that the mere human mind can’t describe–for what are all these colors, like leaves so green they might as well be gems or scents like all her favorite foods rolled up into one, but each flavor still unique? For how can there be so much perfection in one place in all of the universe? 

Yet as the questions churn in her head, her view is blocked by a man with salt and pepper hair who is also wearing a comfortable grey jogging outfit. His smile is easy and kind when he sticks out his hand. 

“Hermes at your service,” he delivers with a wink.

Marinette grasps it firmly, but her eyes are wide and her mind is blown for she is actually holding the hand of a _god_. She suppresses a squeak when the snakes coiling around his wrists begin to move, and thought she feels a stutter shaking on the tip of her lips, she recovers and meets his gaze with a Ladybug stare. “Pleased to meet you,” she starts. “I’m Marientte and this is Tikki.”

The famous messenger god’s smile never wanes as he slowly takes back his hand. “Oh, I know about you both, kid,” he says with a chuckle in his voice. Placing a hand on the middle of her back he guides her down the godly streets. “C’mon, kiddo. Your host is waiting.” 

It is hard not to be caught up in the grandeur in this land of the gods, Marinette realizes, as her eyes sweep over every inch of space. Beside her, Hermes and Tikki chat about times long gone, of creatures and beings humankind forgot. But her mind doesn’t dwell on that when she watches the gods live their immortal lives in pleasure, laughing and smiling as the move about her. However, she can’t place who is who; they all look so modern with high fashion clothes and up-to-date gadgets. 

Fear starts to bubble in her stomach and Marinette breathes deep to pop it. With new found determination, the young girl clears her throat during a lull of conversation between both Greek and Quantic gods, hoping now it would be the most opportune time.  

“Sorry to interrupt,” she apologies, her eyes darting around the expanse of the world for a brief moment. In her worries, she misses the pleased look that twinkles in Hermes’ eyes. But the question still sits firmly on her tongue and desire beats nerves once again. “But what is Aphrodite like?” she asks in a low voice. 

The ever moving god of speed takes a moment to answer as he turns his attention to an impressive building that comes into view. It is tall and elegant, its architecture sleek and clean and Marinette knows that they have reached their destination.  

But the god of travelers and thieves only squeezes her shoulder before urging her forward up marble glistening steps. He bends slightly to whisper so she can hear, “Just remember Marinette–people aren’t what they seem.” His words ghost her ear like a breeze’s kiss, but when she turns around, all that remains is the touch of the wind. 

Tikki flies into her line of sight, more ready to go forward than Marientte’s hesitation. “Don’t worry,” she repeats, an encouraging smile forming on the kwami’s lips. “We’ve always been lucky.” 

 _There are not true absolutes_ , echoes in Marinette’s mind, but saying it aloud feels like a bad omen.

Instead, she just nods her head and presses a quick kiss to her friend’s round head before knocking on thick mahogany doors. Her fist gives a resounding _thwack_  once, twice, thrice before the doors swing open wide, the silent invitation to enter all but said. 

Wordlessly, both parts of Ladybug enter the unknown and walk into a grand foyer, glittering with the same gold as Mount Olympus. Her jaw drops as she inspects a stunning and gleaming chandelier that seems to be made out of a million diamonds hanging above, sparkling like stars. She is in so much awe that she almost misses her name being called and when she turns to look all that enters her vision is flaxen hair and peridot colored eyes she love so much. 

She doesn’t know when her legs push her across the hall, but she’s burying her face in the crook of his neck before she knows it, inhaling the scent of teakwood and cinnamon, and relief makes her legs weak. His name escapes her lips like a fulfilled prayer as he hugs her close, “Adrien…” 

And he’s clinging to her like she’s a lifeline too, holding her so close that she feels like her ribs might crack, but who cares about broken bones when the love of your life is _right in front of you_. 

“What are you doing here?” his voice peppers against her hair in between pecks. 

Her fingers dig into his white shirt and she’s about to answer, but leather shoes clack against the stone floor leading to another stairwell. 

Both teens pull apart, but don’t let go when a male figure makes his way down the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back. His outfit matches the home, white and clean and _sterile_.

“Well, she’s here to see me, of course,” he says with a satisfied smirk as he reaches the last step. “I’m Aphrodite.”

And Marienette’s heart stops when his icy blue eyes meet hers and she finds that she can’t look away.

“But today,” he hums, “you can call me Gabriel Agreste.”    


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little review where we are reminded that Greek Gods have no chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Magical-Aweseome-Kid!

“Gabriel Agreste,” she says, the name springing off her tongue with perfected pronunciation. At her side, Adrien tugs her in close to him, her shoulder pressing firmly under his armpit. Though he doesn’t say it, he’s uneasy.

Her mind is reeling and she looks at Adrien with wide eyes, shock becoming realization.

_ His father is Aphrodite....  _

“Yes,” the famed fashion designer grins as if he has read her mind. However, her thoughts are not concerned with the possibility of Aphrodite's mind reading abilities, clouded with wondering since when she’d found Gabriel Agreste’s smile so dazzling and handsome. 

As he walks down the steps, she can’t tear her eyes from the man before her and her heart is starting to warm, filling to the brim with  _ love _ . Blood rushes to her face and heats her cheeks, rivaling the color of her red coat. It’s off-putting and confusing for her heart to start beating so rapidly and wildly under her sternum. The longer she holds eye contact with him, the more it feels like there is something in her heart that is trying to worm its way into her mind, crawling up her esophagus with prickly claws. 

Pressure is building behind her eyes, like her brain is expanding too quickly to be contained in her skull. All she can focus on is the blinding beauty of Gabriel Agreste as he stands in the middle of the room, his hands tucked in his pockets. It’s wrong, she knows; it’s so wrong and she feels like throwing up the prickly claws scraping the edges of her mind. 

Glacial blue eyes glance towards Adrien almost lovingly. However, the older man’s smile becomes more sneering as he turns his attention back to Marinette. There is an increasingly unsettling and overwhelming feeling to go to the god, like an invisible hand on the small of her back pushing her forward, but her soul knows to keep her feet rooted exactly where they are.  

She’s torn between her vision melting away until all that is left in her world is this man at the center of it and paying close attention to the way Adrien’s fingertips bruise her upper arm as a growl tears past his throat. 

“Father,” he warns.

_ I don’t love you _ , her soul whispers, and her mind and heart agree.

Relief floods her immediately and all is right with the world again.  

And like a taut string, something snaps and the room flashes with a pink crackle. Gabriel hisses from where he stands, his mouth twisting like a monster, and Marinette wonders if she has ever seen something so ugly before.

“Damn brat,” the god(dess) before her mutters, his mouth in a hard line when he looks at them.

The grip on her arm lessens and Adrien rubs it affectionately as he sends her an apologetic smile. His green eyes are filled with worry and concern and love, but Marinette can only offer a small smile of her own; a little shaken up, but for the most part, okay. 

Tikki nuzzles her cheek and Marinette can only offer a gentle caress across the kwami’s brow before addressing Adrien’s parent. 

Clearing her throat (and maybe checking twice if any stray claws remain), her sky blue eyes bore into icy blue ones, knowing for a fact that hers are lit ablaze. 

“So,” she starts, “you’re Gabriel Agreste today.” 

And as if she did not just break their attempt at manipulation, Aphrodite smooths themselves back into place and walks with airy steps. “Sometimes,” they say with a quirk of lips. “Or sometimes I’ve been known as Marilyn Monroe.” 

Before she can question, the man with broad shoulders and a neat suit transforms into the most recognizable beauty of the last century, flouncy blonde curls framing her face and her lips painted red. Instead of leather shoes, black high heel pumps click against the remaining distance between adult and children, the iconic white dress bouncing with each step. 

“Don’t mind her,” Adrien whispers in her ear before addressing his parent. “Stop playing games and tell me why you invited Marinette here.”

Marilyn doesn’t transform back into Gabriel though and instead pulls her son closer to her with a soft hand, smoothing his shoulder with delicate fingers. It’s bizarre, Marinette thinks, and not for the first time this day, she questions if this is something more than she can handle. 

For while she is a chosen hero made of quantic gods, she is not immortal. 

With a breathy voice, Adrien’s parent rests her head on his shoulder, the action seemingly kind, but the presentation covered in ice. She smiles at Marinette with another stunning display of perfect teeth to leave the girl actively trying not to swoon, making her knees weak. “To invite her to a game.”

A sleepy voice drifts from Adrien’s pocket, Plagg sounding annoyed when he asks, “...a game?”

However, Adrien stuffs him back inside and speaks loudly over the kwami, trying to distract his parent from the small cat in his shirt. “What game?”

In the blink of an eye, Marilyn disappears and Gabriel returns, his expression back to stoic and sneering as his eyes drift on Tikki and linger towards Adrien’s pocket. “Yes, a game,” he stresses, as if he was talking about the temperature. “A game to test the true power of a god,” he affirms.

Letting his son go, he takes a step back and continues. “Because someone,” he says, the room feeling colder with his growing irritation although his pitch does not change, “has taught my child that the power of these so-called  _ gods _ ,” he spits, “is worth more than  _ his _ birthright.”

In the air above them, images play of Ladybug and Chat Noir as they run across rooftops and fight akuma. They look happy, Marinette thinks, and Adrien’s smile as his superhero alter ego is nothing like the grim expression he wears now. 

Marinette does not pretend to understand the complexities of Adrien’s relationship with his parent--only learning moments ago that he’s the child of Aphrodite--but she can’t ignore the tension that ripples between father and son as each begin to glow. 

“You’re stuck in your ways,” Adrien grits out, his chest heaving as he stands in front of Marinette to block her from his parent.

“And you,” Gabriel utters, his voice dead even, “care not about honor nor pride.”

The words ring in the air with unspoken reverence, these values of Greek Gods as holy pillars of their society.   

To that, her boyfriend laughs, throwing his head back, but Marinette has never heard anything more hollow. “Honor? Pride?” he parrots, sarcasm dripping on his tongue. “Where is your honor,  _ Aphrodite _ ?” he gloats, and the stone marble floor begins to chip.

“Watch your tone!” Gabriel barks, and the room flashes again, stinging her cheeks.

She cries out, her face burning, and her eyes water, tears threatening to fall. But, she has her own honor, her own pride and she refuses to be weak. 

Although her face is in her palms, she can feel Adrien’s hands on her back in an instant, rubbing soothing circles as he shouts at the god. “What is wrong with you?!”

And unlike all the highly composed and dignified images and interviews of Gabriel Agreste she has ever seen, the man betrays his emotions and yells, “You’re supposed to be my son!” The room echoes with his heavy breathing. 

Tikki’s small hands try to pry Marinette’s fingers away to take a look at the burn, but fail when Marinette’s head whips up at Adrien’s next words, his voice eerily calm. “Maybe I don’t want to be your son anymore.” 

If Aphrodite’s previous outburst was frightening , Marinette is not prepared for the way the grandiose palace shakes, the diamond chandelier in the foyer swinging violently from side to side. “You don’t want to be my son?” 

All she can see is Adrien’s back, knowing for a fact that he’s staring his father hard in the eye with squared shoulders. “No,” he states, his hands clenched at his sides. “I’ll find godhood  _ my _ way.” 

As if time has slowed down, Marinette watches in horror as Gabriel Agreste’s eyes widen only a fraction before his hand reaches out and grabs his son’s throat. Elegant and elongated fingers grasp Adrien’s windpipe with such ease that Marinette doesn’t even realize that the one screaming is her. The god picks him up effortlessly, making the boy’s body sway like the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Around them, the room vibrates and the stone fissures, making the room unstable. 

In the back of her mind, she knows she shouldn’t do it; she knows that she’s just a mere human and Aphrodite is not, but that doesn’t stop her. With strength she didn’t realize she possessed, she runs on the uneven ground and slams into the god.

“Stop it!” Marinette shrieks, tearing her voice. “Just...! I’ll play your game!” 

At the impact, Gabriel drops Adrien and the boy thuds to the ground in a heap. Icy blue eyes that are flashing red glance down at Marinette and her own throat feels the prickly claws again. This time, however, fighting them is useless because she can’t breathe. Tikki lets out a war cry, but she is flicked away and hits the wall. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Plagg follows after Tikki, fury in his yell, but he is batted away just as easily. He crashes into the wall with more force, cracking the mason work before falling beside his counterpart.

Adrien’s coughs echo throughout the room and Marinette can already see the purple bruises forming on his neck as she struggles for her own breath. Before her, Aphrodite looks crazed, their face shifting between multiple men and women, trying to gain control. Each face blends and twists, almost bubbling with every new face. With steady breaths, Aphrodite calms, their eyes slowly turning back to blue until they are ice. 

Smoothing his hair back, Gabriel adjusts his suit lapels and focuses on her. “You’ll play my game?” he asks as if nothing happened. “Under any condition?”

Sky blue eyes dart around the room for a moment, landing on Tikki and Plagg’s fallen forms before peering into Adrien’s pleading eyes. Though Marinette can’t say anything, like an invisible noose is tied around her neck, she nods. 

_ Just let me save them _ .

As if by magic--which she knows it is--she can feel the rope go lax and she gasps for breath, sucking in so much air the edges of her sight go black. 

Slowly, though she is weak, she makes her way to both with staggered steps, stopping briefly to glide her fingers through Adrien’s blond hair. He looks up at her from where he crumbled on the girl and gestures for her to go to the kwami. It feels like eternity before she reaches her beloved friends, but when she does, she scoops them up with delicate fingers. 

“Oh, Tikki...Plagg...” she mummers, tears welling in her eyes again. 

Rage consumes her heart, but Marinette presses her lips together and subdues it before spinning to look at the god in the room. 

As if she were wearing a mask, she stands taller and calmly walks until she is crouched beside Adrien. With one hand holding Tikki and Plagg to her chest and her free arm holding Adrien close, big blue eyes glare up at Aphrodite. “What’s your price?”

She’s positive when blue meets blue again, lightening crackles between them. 

Gabriel’s lips turn upwards in a smirk, and Marinette shoves down the fear that pops up in her mind. 

Looking down at her like she’s worthless, his smile only widens. “Complete three tasks.” He pauses, waiting for Marinette to nod her head. “Without turning into Ladybug.” 


End file.
